Drabble Extravaganza!
by spankingfemfatale
Summary: Okay, this will be a collection of several drabbles made for me by friends and by me for friends! D There will be lots of different fandoms, so I'll name each chapter with the pairing involved WARNING! Will contain slash in some as well as spanking.
1. SupermanOwen

Okay, this will be a collection of several drabbles made for me by friends and by me for friends! =D There will be lots of different fandoms, so I'll name each chapter with the pairing, so if you are interested you can just browse the chapters as they come out :P

This first drabble is from LJ buddy dinahqueen! =D

WARNING! Contains nonsexual spanking!

You know I want to see Owen getting tanned! LOL! I'll let you decide who you want the other player to be! *giggle*

Their reply was:

**Subject:** FICLET: Old Fashioned Man  
_I knew exactly what I wanted to write when I saw your prompt. Hope you enjoy it. _

Clark Kent had always been an old fashioned man. It was a hallmark of how he had been raised and he couldn't help that. His parents had been old fashioned. There was right, and there was wrong. Clark didn't believe in shades of grey. It was one of the things that bothered him about Batmant.

There were some things that he couldn't abide. There were certain things that shouldn't be done. Especially things that involved his underage cousin. Clark didn't _like_ to intrude, he knew he needed to give her space but he just couldn't sit here and let this slide. But this wasn't something for mild-mannered Clark Kent, this was a job for Superman.

It wasn't hard to plan. He found their heartbeats and just waited for them to be apart. He made excuses and then took his leave, changing in to his costume, and headed for the apartment that Kara shared with… _that man_. He didn't think propriety was in order and he let himself in.

The man in question was lounging on the couch, in nothing more than a pair of low hanging boxer shorts and a white tanktop that was fit tight to his body. Superman's eyes narrowed and Owen didn't notice his presence. Superman cleared his throat. Owen jumped to his feet, then stared wide-eyed at Superman standing in his living room.

"How old are you, son?" Superman asked, his voice neutral. Owen's eyes got wider and he took a step back, causing himself to stumble down on to the couch.

"Uh?" Owen responded as intelligently as he felt he was able. Superman's eyes narrowed. Owen bit down on his lower lip, feeling even more nervous. Of course, he knew who his roommate _was_ and he should have expected something like this to happen eventually. He tried to explain that it was nothing, they were only friends. He would have gone on, but a vague reddening of Superman's eyes cut him off.

"I am a reasonable man, Mr. Mercer." Superman said. His voice was still level, uncompromising, unyielding. "Regardless of your attempt to convince me nothing is going on, I don't believe you. I think you are taking advantage of my cousin's age and naiveté." Owen opened his mouth to speak, Superman cut him off, raising his hand.

"And because of that, I think you need to be realigned, to turn your attentions elsewhere. And know I will be watching to make sure that things here stay on a very strict hands-off policy." Superman's voice was firm. He was at Owen's side before the speedster could even blink. It was another fraction of a second before Owen was strewn across Superman's lap.

"What a-" Owen's sentence was cut off when a solid smack landed on his backside. He fell silent, shock on his face. Superman's hand fell once more, on the other cheek this time. There were a few more solid smacks. Owen's face was red, outrage causing him to vibrate slightly.

"You can't do this!" Owen protested as he felt Superman's thumb hook in to his boxers to tug them down. It was already slightly pink, and Owen's cheeks flared up as he felt exposed and vulnerable. "This is insane, let me go!" Owen blustered. Superman put his free hand on Owen's back and pinned him there.

"I am _going_ to do this, and hopefully it will be the first and only time." Superman told him. Owen's next comment was cut off when the hand came down again, now on bare flesh. Owen knew it was futile, but he struggled still, trying to get away, trying not to cry. He wasn't sure it'd ever end, and each smack only brought more pain, until it almost felt like every nerve ending was connected to his bottom, and each slap caused them all to fire.

He was sobbing by the time Superman finally stopped and winced when his boxers were tugged up and the cloth rubbed against his raw bottom. Superman lifted Owen up, and took him to his bedroom, laying him down.

"I don't want to have to do it again, son. So watch yourself." Superman warned him. He left... leaving Owen feeling humiliated and pained. He didn't come out of his room for the remainder of the evening, except to use the bathroom. He refused to tell Kara what had happened. He didn't sleep well because of the pain, and he resolved to find himself a girlfriend fast… so that the assumption would never be made again.


	2. HoodMadamMasqueNormanOsborne

This drabble was written by me for **hawkwitch**! starring Norman Osborne on the receiving side of pain at the hands of the Hood and Madam Masque! LOL!

The concussive blast rocked the dank cell as if an earthquake had hit. Norman peered through the settling dust his head swimming as he worked to piece together where exactly he was again. That 'voice' rang into existence again, "We're free Norman! Get your sorry carcass moving before we're caught!" Echoed laughs followed the command.

A large man wielding a crowbar stepped from the shadows menacingly. Norman breathed a sigh of relief; it was Wrecker, one of the Hood's boys. "Are you a sight for sore eyes." Norman huffed stumbling through the rubble groggily.

Wrecker held out a hand for Norman, and he grasped it gratefully staggering to his feet his smile fading quickly as he felt a sudden flash of pain rocket through the side of his face. He turned questioning eyes toward his assailant only to be greeted by a fist followed by darkness.

"Wakey, wakey." Parker's amused tone broke through the silence, and Norman struggled to focus his eyes in the near dark of the room. His hands were tied behind his back Norman realized. Craning his neck up to address the Hood, Norman growled, "What is the meaning of this? I thought we were friends Parker?"

The cloaked figure paced hands behind his back, "Friends. You know Osborne; you have a funny way of treating your friends. But you're right. You have done right by me the majority of the time. That's why you're not dead right now."

Norman's face strained into a grimace the veins in his neck and one on his forehead bulged in frustration as the Goblin within chuckled remarking, "From the frying pan into the fire! Oh let me out Norman. You know you want to!"

Roaring at the demon within, Norman shouted, "Shut-up! I don't need you!"

Parker stopped mid pace to snarl, "Un-freaking-believable. Are you 'having a moment' over there Osborne? I sure as hell hope you're not speaking to me like that."

The Goblin's rancorous laughter billowed at higher decibels in his mind now making it hard to concentrate on his surroundings. Norman wanted to just let go and let the Goblin take over. It would be so much easier that way, but that's what got him into this mess in the first place. No, he would not bend. This time, he would be strong. Huffing in disappoint, the Goblin spat, "Oh you're no fun at all Norman. Fine, you want to be the big man in charge? Do it by yourself! When you end up six feet under, don't come crying to me!"

Norman had dropped his face into the plush carpet mumbling curses at the Goblin when the Hood's words filtered though and a sudden panic washed over him at what the words he'd muttered to the Goblin could be easily misconstrued. "No! I... damn it! I'm under a lot of stress here, and I need my meds... please, Parker just untie me and let's talk."

The Hood watched Norman's face gesture as if he were having a conversation without saying a word out loud. Shaking his head at the display, Parker rolled his eyes. This guy was a total loon. How the heck did he even get twisted up in cahoots with Osborne? It didn't matter now. Parker was going to have a lot of opposition now that Loki's Norn stones were all but a faded memory, and Norman Osborne was really of no further use to him now that he had nothing to offer. But his sheer patheticness left Parker to feel a twinge of guilt at the thought of torturing the man. Norman would have to suffer though, and Parker was sure he could manage that.

A glint of white shone clearly as light reflected off of the Hood's widening grin, "Stress Norman? You want to talk? Okay." Snatching a wooden chair from the desk in the corner, Parker placed it in front of Norman straddling it casually as he continued to speak, "I don't think you quite understand just how your aspirations have cost me. You see, with your whole 'raid on the super people' brigade going sour, you not only upset the balance making business around these parts a hell of a lot harder to do, but you also cost me my ace in the hole. You took power and control from me Norman, so in order for us to be square, you need to give a little of that back to me."

All the while as the Hood spoke, Norman's eyes grew more narrow. Who did this little fart in the wind think he was? Without his help, no one would even have half an idea of who the Hood was! "What do you want from me Parker? I'm destitute, and in case you didn't notice, I was in a heavily guarded lock down facility when you sent your head smasher to collect me. Which was pretty low by the way. What, do you want an apology? Will that make you 'feel' better about yourself?"

Whitney stepped forward out of the shadows then and Norman jumped slightly not realizing she'd been there the whole time even though his eyes had adjusted some time ago. She moved to stand next to the Hood, her words coming out in a dry clip, "I told you we should have killed him instead of bringing him here."

Parker held up a hand to calm his comrade, "Now, now Madam Masque. I don't think we need to go that particular route... yet, but maybe a little lesson in respect might be in order. What do you think?"

He couldn't see her face behind the gold plated mask, but Norman could feel the grin she held as she answered, "Absolutely. Perhaps a good thrashing would teach him?"

"Wha-what! Is this some kind of joke!" Norman raged as he tried to stand now.

The Hood rose himself turning the chair he had been sitting on swiftly to face Osborne. Using Norman's momentum to throw him across the chair, Parker pinned his prone form by wrapping one hand through the loop of Norman's tied hands and shoving a boot squarely between Norman's shoulder blades to secure him to the chair.

Kicking and trying to buck, Norman hollered out his fury, "I've had just about enough! You think you can mess with me? Norman freaking Osborne? I eat chumps like you for breakfast! You do this Parker, and I swear, you'll make my list! I've already crossed out plenty off that list, so be warned!"

Whitney humphed, "Give me his belt, I'm ready to make him scream."

A chill ran up Norman's spine as he felt the Hood yank at his belt tearing the strap of leather from his belt loops where Madam Masque took over twisting the belt so that she could unbuckle it from his waist for ready use. "Wait! Stop! Come on! I admit, I was being a tad over zealous! You don't have to go through with this! I get it okay! I was being a class A jerk... point taken!" Norman spoke his voice raising an octave as he watched Whitney fold the belt in half, snap it casually to test its suppleness, and move to his side obviously getting ready to swing on him.

The belt rose quickly then singing through the air and connecting on its target readily. Norman's eyes bulged as the pain registered a degree much higher than he had expected and an outburst of shock slipped past his lips cutting out his pleas a moment. The belt descended in rapid pacing at first then switching to the rhythm of a slow heart beat. The pace changed just often enough that Norman couldn't keep track or avoid the building sting radiating from his rear.

After about twenty hard whacks, Norman gave in calling for the Goblin to save him, but the Goblin did not answer, would not answer. Norman had refused his help earlier, and as punishment, he was left to face the consequences of his actions. Growing desperate now, Norman tried harder to buck and twist free of the position he'd been forced into. He cursed and roared until the rage was gone, and he could do nothing to hold the yelps of pain back any longer. This however did not seem to deter Madame Masque from the task at hand, and in fact seemed to spur her on as Norman's howls broke into frustrated sobs, "S..stop! Please! I'm sorry for threatening you! I'm sorry for everything!"

Not slowing in the slightest, Whitney continued looking to Parker who seemed to be debating whether or not Norman had truly had enough. After another twenty or so whacks, Parker felt Norman had paid a semblance of penance and gave a quick nod to Whitney letting go of Norman's hands and removing his boot from his back. Taking the Hood's cue, Madam Masque backed away after applying one more slap harsher than any before it that sent the now free Osborne to arch his back and bounce off the chair re actively reaching back to rub the tender globes while continuing to cry out his humiliation into the carpet below.

The Hood waited for Norman's crying to drop to sniveling hitches, so that he would be fully understood, "I think we're even now don't you?"

Norman said nothing. His main focus stemming on his sore bottom wishing for nothing more than to be left alone to wallow in his embarrassment and building resentment.

"Well, if you don't think we're square..." the Hood began, but Norman quickly interjected, "No, no! We're good. Just... just untie me, and I'll be on my way." Norman's voice trailed off meekly.

Parker strode over to him cutting the ropes binding Norman's hands before speaking face flush against Norman's ear, "We are good. That wasn't pleasant, but I think we have an understanding now. I don't like getting disrespected Osborne, and worse than getting disrespected is getting used. Don't let it happen again." The Hood rose then leaving Norman still crumpled on the floor as he and Madam Masque filed out their shadows bouncing down the hall a moment before all trace of their presence in the abandoned house was gone.

Knowing he was fully alone now, Norman sobbed in anger slamming his fist over and over into the ground before pulling himself together to wipe the tears away. Goblin cooed at him, "Aw, poor baby! Did you have a nice chat with your 'friend' there buddy?" Norman fumed at the comment and the implications behind it. No, this wasn't over by a long shot.


	3. SarahHood

This was written for me by the lovely Hawkwitch! =D

For my lovely **spankingfemme** I hope you like it...

Sarah spanks Parker!

WARNINGS: SPANGST

„Going somewhere?" Sarah's annoyed voice boomed from behind.

The Hood, also known as Parker Robbins in his civilian disguise, hadn't heard his wife approaching. He had been frantically packing his bags to get out of the country, together with Madame Masque.

„Umf mmmf…" was the only sound he managed to squeal out. „You don't understand, Sarah…" He said with a pout. After that Asgard debacle (Damn that Osborn to thousand hells! Damn Loki too!) Captain America & Co. were in throats of all who had allied themselves with Osborn. He was scared to death but there was just no way he'd spend the rest of his life in jail. No way.

„Go then." Sarah said, cocking her eyebrow. „But if you're out, then you're out forever."

„It's just a little business trip!" Parker mumbled an excuse.

„Whatever you're saying…" Sarah said tiredly. She had lost hope to get truth out of him. She went to the closet, took a heavy belt, weighed it on her hand and said: „But before you go I want to give you a little… good-bye present." She folded the belt in her left hand.  
Parker had his back turned to her, he was ignoring her, but also giving her an opportunity to catch him off-guard.

Sarah calmly strode to her husband and stopped only a few inches from him. Her right hand grabbed his firm buttocks, squeezing, fondling and pinching them.

„Sarah…" Parker said with a smirk. His ego was certainly flattered by the unexpected attention while all he had expected was her to whine, complain and make him feel guilty.

Sarah grabbed Parker's collar with her left hand and her right hand went to the small of his back. Parker turned his head to face her and he had no idea… she tackled him into the back of his knees, throwing him onto the bed and over his suitcase.

„OUCH! What the hell was that?" Parker yelped in surprise.

Sarah put her left foot firmly to his back and yanked his trousers down. She took her belt to her right hand and swooshed it through the air a couple of times. That should hurt nice and fine, she thought.

„Sarah, what's the meaning of this? I'm not against a little bit of kinky but…" Parker asked nervously.

„Parker… Parker… Before you go, there is something I want to give to you. A well-deserved spanking namely."

KRAKKK!  
The belt lashed down to the centre of Parker's globes. His bottom twitched from the impact.

„AAAAAHH! Stop it! It's not funny!" Parker squirmed. He tried to push himself up with his hands but in this position he couldn't do much. His wife was in charge, with her left foot on his back and her right one pinning his legs to the edge of the bed. This only served as a painful reminder to Parker that Loki had depowered him. He had been so high on the power from the Stones of Norn and now he was an average chump yet again. That blasted trickster!

KRAKK! Another lash of the belt made his efforts to get up even more futile, since severe pain was jolting through his body. Parker couldn't help himself but let out an embarrassing little squeal.

„Please, Sarah!" He mumbled.

„You're such a cowardly little weasel." Sarah frowned disapprovingly. She looked at her husband's arse that had a couple of red marks from the belt in the middle. She raised her hand.

„Sarah! Ouch! What have I done to deserve this? I've ever only wanted to please you!" Parker whined.  
For a moment it flashed black in front of Sarah's eyes. She couldn't believe what she heard. Her husband was as secretive and aloof as ever and like usually playing the victim. She was so tired of all his secrets and lies. She wondered often what on earth had Parker gotten himself into that he had to hide from her. That damn sure wasn't the man who she had married and had given her a daughter. He hadn't always been like that…

„RRRAAAHHH SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Sarah growled out loud and smacked the belt down to the middle of his buttcheeks. A little tear fell from her eye onto his flushed pink butt.

„AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" Parker screamed in pain. He was surely glad there was noone else around to see it as he screamed like a bitch while his own wife who had no superpowers was punishing him.  
But maybe he deserved being punished…?

Parker sobbed.

And another swat in quick succession stung his backside.

„Do you love someone else?" Sarah asked, voice trembling.

„AAAAGHH! I love you Sarah, I love you!" Parker said with a painful sob.  
Sarah wasn't convinced Parker was telling the truth, she also wasn't sure if she truly wanted to hear him admitting such thing.

„AAH can you please stop now?" Parker pleaded. „I'm sorry, Sarah – AAAGGH!"  
Sarah took a moment to think it over. Her husband was resigned and no longer trying to push himself up. He had done his struggling and failed, she could only feel fim bucking and twitching under her.

Sarah was overhelmed with heartache, anger, disappointment and disgust. However… dominating her husband in a most humiliating manner and punishing him in a most appropriate way didn't lack sexually arousing substance. She hadn't felt this spark with her husband for ages.

„Hmm. No. If you go, you're sure as hell going to have a very sore ass to sit on for a very long time and you're going to remember for the rest of your life that I don't put up with your bullshit."

She lowered herself, so her left knee was keeping his shoukderblades pinned down and pushing his arse up over the suitcase. She was whipping his buttocks steadily and accurately, letting the belt tan both his buttcheeks and backs of thighs. She watched him struggle and squirm and that pleased her. She kept on belting his sorry rear until Parker could take no more, burst into hysterical tears and kept on apologizing for neglecting her…  
Spank her pain away.

_Never the end_.


	4. LockeJackBen

This fantastic fic was written for me by my LJ friend, Blackwolf1480! =D

Of Deceit, Faith, and Science

(AN: I had loads of fun with this! Writing for Ben in this state was very yummy.)

Ben was positioned with his stomach on the kitchen counter of the hatch and his lower half dangling from its rounded edge. His hands were tied behind his back, as per usual since being captured by the castaways, but his feet were free.

Jack stood menacingly tall beside Ben, with his hand pressed on his back to keep him from sliding off. The doctor casted a worried glance towards Locke, who was rocking to and fro on his heels behind Ben, with the prisoner's belt lolling from his gripping hand.

"Is there really no other alternative?" The surgeon suggested Locke.

"Can you think of one? We've tried everything, Jack, and nothing has worked on him. He's made us more upset than we've made him. I want answers; we all do. I don't feel we should waste any more time than we already have."

Jack begrudged a nod with nothing else to contribute to the situation. He was tired, as were they all, from interrogating this Henry Gale person. Whoever he was, right now, Jack wished he wasn't so stubborn so that they could get some answers and be done with it.

Locke moved to Ben's side, and drew a deep breath. His muscled arm craned back, and with aim, landed perfectly on the seat of Ben's pants with a snap.

Ben made a muffled grunt but remained stone still, his poker face never waning.

Locke continued the licks to Ben's sit-spot, never faltering his pace or moving his eyes from their target. His expression was stoic: eyebrows furrowed close together to form hard wrinkles on his forehead and his mouth chiseled in a frown.

After the first two minutes, Jack was the only one appearing blatantly affected by the ordeal. He would flinch at each swat Locke delivered to the captive. He tried not to look but found it too challenging; his eyes were drawn, of their own accord, to the flying implement.

Finally Ben elicited a delicious yelp of pain and began to squirm under Jack's shaky but steady hand. Locke's frown twitched upward for a split second upon seeing Ben's struggles, signs that progress was being made and by his own hand.

When Locke had suggested spanking Henry Gale, Jack was disgusted by the idea and immediately dismissed it, but after some quarreling and debating, Jon won over the Doc's trust. Trust or not, Jack was still feeling apprehensive and bitter, and these negative energies can make even the most responsible of people to neglect their duties. Jack, for example, had forgotten to lock the back door of the hatch.

Locke was well into the spanking now. Ben was squirming wildly yet quietly, testing Jack's restraining skills.

Ben could feel his ass on fire, burning through the thin material of the frail and poorly designed Other's pants. He could picture its state in his head and had to fight the image with the lie that would get him out of this mess (if he could stick with it long enough, that is). It was him versus the man of faith. Who would endure?

Of Deceit, Faith, and Science (pt.2)

The belt slammed down with a crack.

Ben responded with a buck.

"Let's start from the basics. Who are you?" Locke demanded.

"I've told you. My name is Henry, Henry Ga-Ah!"

Locke's belt confirmed that he wasn't buying the Henry Gale story.

"I'll repeat: Who are you and where did—"

In that instant the three men froze like deer in headlights and went silent, with just the sounds of Ben's heavy breathing.  
The hatch's back door had creaked open, allowing a small breeze to crawl its way in. They heard footsteps, and then the door shut. Charlie stood stalk-still with his mouth hanging open, looking as if it was about to unhinge and drop to the hard floor. He tried moving his lips to form words but to no avail.

"Charlie, what did I tell you? Jack and I took over your button duty for the rest of the day." Despite the ashamed looks Ben and Jack fashioned, Locke remained at his post with the belt held confidently in his hand, looking merely annoyed.

Ben used this diversion to his advantage and began skidding off the counter but Jack grabbed him with both hands and roughly hoisted Ben back onto the counter. From a rush of adrenalin, he slapped Ben's ass as retribution, causing the meek man to squeal and kick.

Charlie observed at the scene, too confused to ask and too anxious from just being seen.

"I know, Jon, but I just came down to…" His eyes wandered in search for a valid excuse but it was no use.

Locke searched the bleak enclosure, thinking hard of what it was Charlie could want down there, when it struck him.

"You're not getting your drugs, not today, not ever." Charlie opened his mouth to argue but Locke cut him off. "Now go back to the beach, forget what you saw, or you'll be next." Using the belt, Locke pointed to Ben, whimpering silently with his back heaving up and down unsteadily.

Before you could've said Geronimo Jackson, Charlie was out of the hatch with the door slammed shut behind him, leaving Jack, Locke, and Ben alone once again.

"What're you doing?" Locke asked, flustered, as Jack had begun tugging at Ben's pants.

"I need to see the damage being done. Do you know how hard it is for a doctor to watch a helpless man's body being tortured? I've gotta check."

When Ben's pants were to his knees, his pale face blushed wildly. He automatically bent his torso inward until his knees touched the side of the counter, shyly.

"Henry, it's alright. I'm a doctor." Jack coaxed, rubbing his hand on Ben's back.

Ben straightened up for the man of science but fidgeted beneath the hand.

"May I resume now, Jack?" Locke asked sounding sarcastically polite.

When Jack nodded, Ben's eyes grew wide. "Wait! I'm not ready yet!"

"I don't think your pants are needed anymore. It'll be easier on all three of us," Locke simply stated, relieved Jack didn't object.

Locke drew back the belt and snapped it across Ben's ass. A glowing red streak shined across both cheeks and Ben cursed from the doubled pain. As the interrogation carried on into the day, his ass grew rosier and rosier and he began to tear up. Through his sobs, he stuck with the Henry Gale story. It only made Locke angrier but he endured the punishment.

"Why? Why don't you believe me? I'm from Minnesota. I crash landed here just like the rest of you. Please, let me show you. Let me show you where my balloon is."

"There is no balloon!" Locke landed another blow, this time to Ben's upper leg. His faith in Ben telling the truth was weakening but he tried sounding confident; he couldn't let this man bask in his failure.

Of course, Ben saw right threw his spanker's mask. Below the blanket of fire on his rear, on the inside, he was smiling. Smiling because he knew he was winning and would be let free. Using his final tactic, he would prove there was a balloon, physical evidence that would buy his ticket to freedom. Then he would join the ranks of the survivors and his scheming would prosper. He was the leader of the Island after all.

Of Deceit, Faith, and Science (pt.3)

As his thighs became speckled with the kiss of Ben's belt, Jack felt it was time to intervene.

"Locke, I think I believe him."

His arm shaking, Locke halted and stared at Jack, as if Jack's trust in Ben was all he needed to hear right now.

"Make him draw a map for us to follow. If we find the balloon then all this will be over. We'll have answers."

Locke contemplated this. He looked at his handiwork: Ben's ass completely reddened with random splotches of purple scattered sparsely throughout.

"Fine," Locke caved. "But not us. Get some of our own to find this balloon. Make sure Charlie's one of them. That should keep him busy for a while." He set the belt down on the counter near Ben's head and sat down, exhausted and confused.

With a sigh of relief, Jack helped Ben from the counter. Ben wobbled for a second, the feeling of ground on his feet felt unfamiliar but collected himself as his pants and belt were reestablished around his waist.

Jack led him to the kitchen table and forced him to sit in the bench, making him hiss as his raw flesh hit the hard surface. As he stared down at the blank paper and pen Jack had retrieved, his wrists were cut from their bounds. Immediately he drew up a map and handed it to Jack without a word.

"I'll be back. Don't do anything too rash without me." And with that, Jack was out the door, leaving the man of faith and man of deceit alone in the hatch.

Unable to withstand the sitting position any longer, Ben rose and wandered slowly to wear Locke was sitting, head in his hands.

"You know, Jon, you shouldn't let Jack boss you around so much. Power is a powerful thing, without it your nothing, lost. This is your hatch remember? You have the final say to what goes on down here. You have the power so don't let anyone break it."

Locke gazed up at Ben standing beside him and grinning.

"Stop that," ordered Locke.

"Stop what, Jon?" asked Ben, nonchalantly.

Now on his feet, Locke smacked Ben's throbbing bum with his palm in the direction of Ben's jail cell. The smaller man wailed and trotted in the direction he was pushed in. Lock continued herding him until he practically ran the rest of the way into his cell.

With one final hard stare between the two, Locke shut and locked the door, leaving Ben to ponder his plans with a sore ass and a triumphant heart.


	5. OdinLoki

Written by the most awesome the lttlespanko! XD I love my friends, and I so need to catch up to their level of awesome! =D

Fic Drabble Prompt: Odin spanks Loki - for Jenna!

Here's a little story I wrote as a prompt for Jenna. Since you guys liked the Supernatural story I just posted, I thought you might also like this. Please enjoy!

What Did Loki Do THIS Time?

The doors burst open, and Thor dragged a flailing, struggling Loki behind him in his wake as he entered the throne room. Thor tossed his brother down in front of him with an irritated sniff, as though the smaller prince were but a rag doll, and glared up at his father, his muscles twitching in anger.

Odin's brow rose slowly with interest as he regarded both sons. Thor was gritting his teeth, the grinding audible all the way to where Odin sat upon his throne. Loki laid upon the floor, eyes flitting back and forth between the two larger men as he attempted to shield himself from each.

Odin's lip curled ever so slightly as he watched his younger son's mind trying to come up with a convincing way to save his own skin during the short time it was taking Thor to regain some semblance of control in order to announce his reasoning for storming the throne room in such a hasty manner.

Odin already knew, had known for some time. It was a harmless ruse, a welcome throwback to Loki's youngest years, but he wasn't surprised that it had garnered this sort of a reaction from his elder son. He hoped this would be a promising change in the Trickster's actions.

Loki had caught the amusement playing on Odin's face, and attempted to capitalize on it by shooting eyes of sorrow at him. He knew he wouldn't be banished for this. It had been a harmless prank. All he would receive would be a good scolding and perhaps a threat of a strangling – just as long as Odin kept Thor at bay, that is. Of course, he'd have to undo his mischief, but that was a given when caught.

Thor said through clenched teeth, "Father, do you know..."

"I know," Odin said in such a simple tone that Thor jerked, gazing up at Odin for a long moment in silence. Odin, however, was narrowing his eye at Loki, a hint of a smirk on his face as he considered the situation. He could foresee the difference this one act would make.

"Then what..." Thor tried, still a little shocked, but Odin held up a hand to quiet him.

"While I admit it pleases mine heart to see yer mischief harmless in nature once again, I cannot smile upon it," Odin said as he petted at the whiskers on his chin, one eyebrow raised. "There must be punishment."

Loki visibly shrank, not expecting this, while Thor stood straighter. The two of them glanced at each other, Loki's nervous and Thor's satisfied.

"You'll banish me?...for this?" Loki stammered out pathetically.

"Nay," Odin said off-handedly, deciding to take this opportunity for what it was. "I have a more fitting punishment in mind for ye, Loki."

"Oh?" Loki said, trying to seem unconcerned as his hair stood on end at the cryptic words. His mouth having gone dry, Loki swallowed hard to try and re-wet it so that he might speak, "A-and what ...what might that be?"

Odin smiled down at him darkly, "Something I should have used on ye long ago..."

Loki's brow drew up in confusion, and again he eyed Thor. Thor, however, was just as confused as the Trickster, and simply gave him an irritated shrug before looking back to his father, eager to hear what Odin had in mind.

"I should have spanked thee from the start of yer mischief," Odin rumbled. "Now that you've again returned to childish pranks, I mean to rectify that mistake now."

Loki's eyes widened, "You...you can't be serious..." Looking to Thor, he saw that his brother was trying very hard not to laugh at him. "You cannot humiliate me so!" Loki shrieked.

"Come," Odin said as Loki looked for a way past Thor. "So have ye humiliated Thor, so will thee be humiliated. ...do not make me get up, Loki. Come here."

All Loki was able to do was sputter in disbelief. Certainly, this had to be a joke. HAD to be. All Loki need do was wait this out – he'd seen the humor flash across his father's face earlier, certainly this was some sort of strange attempt at humor. Loki stood in his place, looking with unbelieving and waiting eyes up into Odin's face for this to pass. But pass it did not.

Odin pointed to the right of his throne as his face darkened. "Now."

Seeing his father's face change towards real anger had Loki cringing and complying in short order, but not before he first attempted to again be the voice of reason. But, as soon as he opened his mouth, Odin raised his hand to quiet him. And so, Loki kept walking until he stood at Odin's side.

Reaching out and grabbing Loki by the wrist, Odin pulled his son over his lap. Loki instantly began to thrash about, surprised that Odin was actually intent upon carrying this sentence out, but it did no good. Odin's hold was true. Wrapping an arm around his son and pulling him to his waist, Odin then lowered Loki's britches.

"NO!" Loki squawked indignantly, "What are you doing? This is ridiculous! Don't disrobe me! This...this isn't proper at all! Unhand me," Loki growled as he swayed back and forth, trying in vain to struggle away.

Odin ignored him as he raised his meaty palm and brought it down squarely into Loki's cheeks, eliciting a hiss followed by another squawk by the Trickster.

"AH! This is not right, stop it! STOP," Loki yelled as he was spanked again. "I'm full grown! I'm an adult! One doesn't spank adults!" Loki said as he pouted up at his father, full of rage at his predicament.

Odin laughed. "You are still but a godling to me, and yer actions are that of a child," he reasoned.

The look Loki gave him was awe-faced indignation. "OUCH! Are you mad? AH! Have you lost your wits? YEOWCH! What sort of madness is this? AOW!"

Thor couldn't help but chuckle at the proceedings taking place before him. Loki flailed his arms and legs as would a small child having a tantrum while laying over their father's knees, his exposed bottom already a bright pink as his eyes glared about in rage and shock. It was priceless.

"Father? ….Father! OW! ...enough! I get your jest – truly, I do! OUCH! ….FATHER – You wound me," Loki declared, his green eyes almost glowing from under his bangs as they caught the light, shining desperately up at Odin.

Odin, however, wasn't swayed. He didn't acknowledge Loki's cries, and kept spanking in earnest, painting the little Trickster's cheeks brighter and brighter shades of pink and then red. As the pain built, Loki began throwing back his hands and kicking his legs up as he tried to twist his bottom away from Odin's heavy hand, looking over his shoulder to see as to where Odin aimed.

Odin spanked around the distractions for a few moments before sighing and pausing to grab up Loki's hands as he thrust his leg from under and then over Loki's legs to secure him immobile. It happened so quickly that Loki was left blinking rapidly, trying to figure out how he'd been slunk forward and become immobile all at once.

Testing his limbs, and finding them secured and useless, Loki's stomach flip flopped. Looking over his shoulder once more he said, "Release me so that I might fix my mischief? I...I will make things right...better than before! BETTER! If only you'll let me show you!"

"Hmmf," Odin said as he raised his hand again.

"No No NO! WAIT...WAI-OOWW!" Loki yelled, green eyes wide and terrified as the spanks came harder and faster, his stomach sinking further as he was unable to do anything to stop it. He couldn't even twist to the side to temper the blows as they fell, and his panic became intolerable.

Odin began focusing eight or nine spanks in the same place before moving on to another, creating an existence of pure agony for Loki. Within moments of this treatment, Loki was yelling out with each slap and soon was even moaning in between the slaps in pain.

Finally Odin moved to Loki's most tender areas of his under-curve and the tops of his thighs, paying even more attention when he saw the reaction his applied hand brought there. Loki screeched with each new round, his eyesight blurring as tears formed and spilled down his face.

Odin had meant for this child's punishment to be more humiliating than painful – a silly, harmless punishment to go with his silly, harmless ruse. Yet, the way Loki writhed and cried out had Odin realizing that this was a fitting punishment indeed. What, if Odin actually put some muscle into this sort of punishment, Loki's more dangerous tendencies could very well be curbed. As it is, Odin found it took no more than light slaps of his meaty palm to bring his little trickster to quiet tears.

"Tell your brother you're sorry and ask for his forgiveness, and I'll see fit to end your punishment," Odin said in a kind tone that was so shocking to Loki that the trickster was moved to comply.

Looking over to his hated brother, Loki's face reddened as he said quite articulately in a subdued tone, "You have my deepest regrets, Thor. Might I seek your forgiveness?" He wanted nothing more than this horrible occurrence to end...now.

Thor's head quirked to the side as he was hardly able to believe what he saw playing out before him.

"Thor?" Odin asked, none too gently.

Shaking his head to bring him back to his own senses, Thor responded with a simple "Aye."

"Then it tis done," Odin said. Patting Loki upon the back a moment to calm him, Odin released his grip and said, "You may rise, Loki."

Loki, again finding his angst, glared up at his father as he scurried from his lap, hands immediately yanking up his britches before he tried rubbing the sting out.

"Mayhap you should think on this, Loki," Odin said with an amused smile. "Imagine if ye had committed a serious offense, the sting thee would feel!"

Loki stopped his rubbing and slowly looked up at his father with worried eyes, "I am full grown, surely I'd be banished for serious offenses?...surely you jest."

Odin's smile grew, though it was warm, "Nay, methinks this has much more of an effect upon ye, Loki, and thou shalt suffer this punishment for any indiscretion from here on."

Loki made a noise deep in his throat before lowering his head in mortification that brought forth the rumble of laughter from Odin.


	6. CatmanDeadshot

This is a slash fic with Catman and Deadshot I wrote for Dinahqueen! I hope you like it baby! XD (I know Hawkwith and Superfan will likely be pleased to! LOL! XD)

Floyd gritted his teeth as Thomas pushed into him biting back the want to chide the roughness of the thrust as it felt too emasculating to voice… not that being on the other end of Catman's rod wasn't enough of a testament to his role as bitch in this encounter. No time for whining now; that wasn't Floyd's style. Besides, he'd brought this situation down on himself.

Floyd had wanted to prove a point; a few beers and banter set the stage to Deadshot getting in a brawl with the masked feline. Floyd had wanted to show who would come out the tougher man of the two.

Floyd realized too late that Catman had a bit more constitution than he had, and after several long minutes of wresting the two ended up with Floyd pinned under Thomas while Thomas heaved silently catching his breath and staring down at Floyd disapprovingly. Deadshot squirmed under the glare trying to remove Thomas' knees from holding his arms securely to the ground.

The larger man's weight bore down on Deadshot's chest, and as exhaustion set in, Floyd's lungs stung from the exertion, and he felt the need for a cigarette even knowing they were the cause of the burn. Floyd stopped struggling giving Blake an unreadable expression that didn't broker any anger or breaking of will as he stated coolly, "Alright. You win furball; now get the hell off of me."

Thomas ignored the request becoming irate, "Damn it Floyd, what the hell is wrong with you? Every time I turn around, you want to get in a pissing contest with me. Well I'm done. We settle this once and for all. You want to play rough? Name the stakes; I'm game."

A slight smirk spread across Deadshot's face as he responded, "Fair enough. My choice of weapons against yours. Winner lays claim to make the other their bitch for one week's time… saying of course you're not dead by the time we finish this. I'll try not to cause any mortal wounds when I plug you full of holes."

Thomas stared at him for a long moment before answering, "If we do this, are you going to play fair? Or am I going to have to watch out for some underhanded dirty fighting?"

Floyd chuckled lightly, "Scout's honor, I'll fight fair. I'm almost hurt you would assume I wouldn't Blake."

Catman huffed hopping to his feet and reaching a hand down to help Deadshot up off the ground. The mercenary took the hand clasping it tightly as he was hauled to his feet. Thomas nodded once before stating bluntly, "Tonight. At that abandoned farm house up the road."

Watching Catman's retreating form, Deadshot thought, 'This is going to be too easy.' Always confident in his own prowess, Floyd assumed Thomas wouldn't even get close enough before he knocked his dick in the dirt. After all, who brings 'claws' to a gun fight?

The fight was over before it had really begun. Deadshot had left before dusk expecting Catman to come sometime after. He'd set up trip wires on the window's as he staked out a perfect window to watch for Catman's arrival sniper rifle at the ready. What Lawton hadn't suspected was that Thomas was clever enough to get to the farmhouse before him and had laid in wait until well after dark in the attic creeping down to jump him from behind when he noticed Floyd had grown bored of waiting.

Floyd sent out a flurry of shots; one grazing Blake's thigh but not enough to break the hold the muscled arms held on Deadshot's biceps and shoulders. Using his claws fluidly, Catman drove them into the leather straps clipping Deadshot's wrist guns securely in place. The action serrated through the straps like a hot knife through butter causing the weapons to clack harmlessly to the floor.

His arms free for the moment, Lawton reached for his set of revolvers strapped neatly across his back as Catman simultaneously sliced upward to remove those options of recourse as if sensing exactly what action Deadshot planned to take next.

Floyd grunted in pain as Catman's claws not only cut through the straps but also his shirt skimming the skin on his back. Thomas grabbed the already reaching back hands tightly securing them behind Deadshot's back as Thomas' leg shot out in front of Floyd's serving to trip the gunman.

The two rolled on the floor, Thomas already had the advantage Floyd knew, but he wasn't one to give in easily, and so it was that the two spent the next ten minutes struggling for control before Deadshot finally admitted defeat, "Okay Blake. Not exactly my idea of fair, but I guess technically you got me."

Thomas huffed responding, "You said your weapons against mine. Stealth is one of my favored weapons. It's not my fault you're not aware enough to notice me coming."

Deadshot scowled turning his face up past his shoulder to look up at Blake as he spat, "So what now. You gonna make me cook your meals and clean your room for you? I'll warn ya I ain't much good at either."

Blake's lip curled in a slight smirk, "I'll consider it, but right now I was thinking of the literal implications of the bet."

Minutes later, those words bit his subconscious in a most bitter fashion as Lawton tensed under the intense intrusion of feeling Blake's member slide in slowly. He was taking his time about it, and Floyd guessed he should be grateful for the small consideration. When he had made the statement of 'the winner claiming the other as their bitch for one week', Deadshot hadn't given thought of just what those words might entail. Floyd did now, and he was quickly finding out Thomas had a 'point' to prove as well.

Blake's cock felt to increasingly grow in girth the further into Floyd it penetrated making it more difficult to bear. Deadshot braced himself against this new sensation of Catman's member filling him completely pressing against his prostate. The mix between the slight burning pain and the pressure rubbing against his G-spot sent waves of shivers up and down Floyd's spine. He didn't want to enjoy this, but somehow the slight masochistic side of him that wanted to feel pain through pleasure didn't mind his other head having ideas of its own as to what was arousing.

Deadshot's body was tight in all the right ways Blake examined as he began to rock in and out in increasing speed. Thomas wasn't one to gloat over a win normally, but taking Floyd in this manner was bringing out a more primal feral side of dominance he felt a need of sating. The claw markings striping the other man's back helped increase the sexiness of the encounter as Blake leaned down to lick at the wounds to taste the blood mixed with sweat.

Floyd growled in annoyance, "You're not going to start yowling or anything are you?"

Thomas chuckled, "I could always bite," the statement was followed by Blake giving Lawton's side a nip that made Deadshot jerk in a most delightful way. "Damn Lawton, if I didn't prefer women already, you might persuade me to switch teams."

Floyd seethed under Catman's comment bucking for a few moments to try and get the upper hand to no avail before he remarked, "You sure you don't want to switch positions… if I'm so good this way, you'll be blown away by what I can do on the other end."

Thomas grinned pumping a little faster as he growled out, "No thanks, I think I'm doing just fine from up here."

The faster Thomas' pace increased the more friction Floyd felt pushing across his G-spot and the pain slowly subsided as his own cock swelled. He found himself moving in rhythm rubbing his own stiffening cock into the folds of his now loose and shredded shirt.

Blake noticed this change becoming more excited himself pumping in time to Floyd's own cadence as his excitement mounted. The power exchange left Thomas feeling almost feverish at the sight of Deadshot giving in and taking him so willingly.

Floyd had never felt such intensity building in him, and it was almost as if he couldn't contain the orgasm that ripped through him. He let out a soft moan collapsing as his body shook uncontrollably.

Feeling Lawton's body ripple with the effects of his own orgasm clenching and effectively milking Thomas's own cock, Catman let out an uncultivated growl at the onset of his own climax taking him as he dug his fingertips into Floyd's wrists. Once spent, Blake let go of Lawton's hands panting his exertion and awaiting any sudden movements from Deadshot at his release.

Much to Catman's surprise, Deadshot made no move to roll towards his guns instead rolling over onto his side as he commented, "I gotta admit furball, I didn't expect to ever get off like that. I guess it's better than having to pay for it."

Thomas grinned widely as he shook his head, "Always good for a joke Lawton. Just remember, you're mine still for a whole week," Blake stated playfully nipping the other man's shoulder.

Deadshot waved him off, "Yeah, yeah, don't rub in Blake."


	7. HuntressRiddler

From the wonderful Dinahqueen! I gave her the prompt Huntress/Riddler, and this is what she delivered! :P

_(A/N: I wasn't sure if you wanted romance or not, so it's sort of weird sexual vibe... Also, your favorite..!)_

Huntress wasn't for personally reforming villains. On a good day, she'd put them back in prison with a few broken bones... and on a bad day, they'd be broken with Death breathing down their neck and Hell preparing for their arrival. This was good enough for Huntress, even if she knew that it wasn't going to change anything... and that facing their own morality wasn't going to make them reform. Or do anything except holding a personal vendetta when they eventually got sprung (because in Arkham, it was never a matter of _if_).

Later, Huntress could blame it on a bad day, or week, or month, or maybe even year. Whatever it was, she was at some sort of breaking point. Beating villains didn't make them learn, prison didn't rehabilitate them.

Beneath the heel of her boot, Riddler was defeated. He wasn't hurt badly, but his plot had been foiled, and she was rather effectively keeping him down with a foot on his chest. Her hand was hovering over her comm link, having just been about to report to Oracle that she'd caught him, when her thoughts had drifted to the probability of being thrown back in Arkham reforming him. She dug her heel against his chest, and Riddler made an unmanly sort of squeaking sound.

"I know what it is." Huntress mused aloud, a breeze stirring her cape and some of the debris surrounding them, "You weren't disciplined enough as a child. You grew up thinking you could have whatever you wanted and no one told you different." Helena continued. Riddler was staring up at her, eyes shrouded by his domino mask, but a confused expression crossed his face, wondering what she was talking about.

"It's the only logical explanation." Huntress continued, not noticing, or not caring, about Riddler's confusion. "You might be a bit obsessive, maybe a bit compulsive- but you aren't _insane_, your mental state is mostly intact. Unlike some other people, so it has to be that." Helena frowned and bent down, moving her foot from his chest as she hauled him up by his lapels.

Another quick swoop down and she'd grabbed the question-mark topped cane that he had had with him. She dragged him along as he spluttered and protested, not sure what was going on, but not liking it all the same. Huntress sat astride her bike and pulled Eddie across her lap.

"I'm thinking what you need, more than anything else, is a solid disciplinary influence in your life." Helena told him. She undid his belt and pulled it off, pushed his pants and underwear down to expose his bare bottom. Eddie stammered with indignation.

"Let me go, you harlot!" Eddie snapped, thrashing in her grip. Helena shifted their positions, Eddie's hips over one thigh, while her other leg was over him, pressing his back down, and his chest against the leather of the bike seat.

The cane came down like a whip crack on his bare bottom, causing Eddie to yelp in pain. Helena made a humming sort of noise, and brought the cane down again. As each successive blow rained down, the more Eddie pleaded with her to stop. Helena felt a surge... like power, a heady sensation that caused her to tingle with something very close to delight.

"Stop, please..." Eddie's voice was ragged around the edges, pleading, but Helena watched in fascination as the skin of his bottom turned crimson red, and hovering her hand over it, she could feel the heat emanating from his cheeks. She clamped her legs around him tighter and discarded the cane in favor of using her hand.

That feeling surged up even greater as she felt Eddie's skin shift beneath her hand, felt him squirm between her legs like he was trying to get away. Helena bit down on her lip, spanked him until he was sobbing, whimpering, begging, swearing to never do anything bad again if she'd please just stop.

Eddie promised, tears streaking his face, and Helena believed him. After a few more hard swats, she let him up, trussed him up, and took him back to Arkham.

Helena knew it'd have to be wait and see, but she wondered if her discipline had any effect. If it did, she was tempted to do it again... so maybe she didn't wish Riddler stayed inactive after all.


	8. DeadshotJeanette

From the wonderful Dinahqueen! I gave her the prompt Deadshot/Jeanette! This is so sweet and sad! :)

Jeanette/Deadshot- Threnody  
_(A/N: I don't even know, I kind of went full-on romance for this thing. XD And it's NP, just didn't want to forget!)_

In the darkness of the room, the moonlight from the window spilled across, making her hair look like molten silver. Dressed in black and sitting at the edge of the bed, with alabaster skin, and a solemn expression- she could almost be Death personified. Her eyes were distant and there was the faintest sound of humming, like the whisper of a wind. It was that sound that had roused Floyd from his slumber.

For an instant, he was confused, startled, and reaching for his gun as he saw the girl perched on the end of his bed. With bleary eyes he blinked, and he paused in his motions, coming fully awake and recognizing just who it was. Her humming changed, the words coming to her, tumbling out in a slow and mournful and haunting sort of song. Floyd blinked again, sat up straighter. But the words were in no language he could speak.

Then again, there was a darkness and sorrow edging the words that Floyd could feel, more than recognize by virtue of what was being said. He felt goosebumps rise on his skin, and some noise got caught in his throat. The sorrow was palpable and, Floyd realized, personal. He hesitated a moment... there wasn't exactly a polite term for what he and Jeanette were to one another.

But for this moment, Floyd didn't see the somewhat aristocratic girl who was so full of life despite her death, who smiled and laughed and treated life like some sort of elaborate party, and instead he saw the girl who'd been cut down before her time by her husband. Floyd felt something tighten in his chest and he moved, listening to the dirge, and didn't stop until he was next to her.

Floyd's arms came around her middle, squeezing lightly, enough to startle her from her song. The silence that followed was almost deafening, and Floyd rested his head against Jeanette's back, smelling the sweetness of her perfume, and unconsciously, he rubbed soothing circles on his abdomen. It was not long before his hand slipped into the flowing robe, still rubbing gently... warm and calloused fingers tracing nonsensical patterns.

Jeanette relaxed in his arms and her eyes fluttered closed. "S'okay." Floyd's voice was still rough with sleep but he held on tight, his hand trailing lower, to make her forget about whatever was making her so sad. Jeanette didn't protest, just squirmed back against him, spreading her legs slightly.

"I promise, it's okay." Floyd repeated. The moon disappeared behind the clouds, plunging the room back in to darkness. And Floyd shifted, pulling Jeanette backwards until she was laying on the bed. He moved in and kissed her softly, gently. The sound she made was surprised, but she didn't push him away.

And for the moment, he helped her forget.


End file.
